


Yesterday, Today, And Tomorrow

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Smut, Soulmate Bond, Soulmates, Tumblr: marveysecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: When, in a world where soulmates are not an extremely rare but not exactly an every-day-thing either, a loner like Harvey Specter and a fuck-up like Mike Ross meet by sheer coincidence, naturally, the course of their lives is changed forever.Unable to be apart, yet unwilling to truly give in and consummate their bond our two heroes struggle through life side by side until they can’t avoid any longer to face and to deal with what Destiny has in the cards for them. Angst with a happy ending. Soulmate schmoop.





	Yesterday, Today, And Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDevilsDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDevilsDuchess/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, [fuckyeahmarvey](http://fuckyeahmarvey.tumblr.com/)! You asked for a soulmate AU - I hope you enjoy! *smooches*

**Now**

They’ve talked about it only three times before this night, two and a half times, if one wants to split hairs, and Mike really, _really_ wants to split hairs – anything to avoid even thinking about it right now, to just put it off a little longer.

And if one really, _really_ wants to split hairs one could argue that they’ve only talked about it once, talked about it properly, that is, and that that one time had happened on the day Mike had crashed the interview, briefcase full of pot and his hair an honest-to-god mess from running down those four flights of stairs.

Mike remembers the moment perfectly, of course he does. The images, the sounds and the sensations hum through him even now, even though he’s filled to the brim with the dull ache of a far too long separation and a bone-deep, lead-like fatigue. He still remembers his heart fluttering like a caged bird, beating erratically in his chest, racing from the running as well as from the scare with the cops and from a feeling of build-up so intense that he hadn’t been able to sleep for days. It felt as if something had been growing inside of him over the last couple of years, something so big and bountiful that it had been threatening to tear him apart since the morning when he had picked up the briefcase at Trevor’s place and had taken a cab to the Chilton. 

He hadn’t been able to put a name to it but the feeling had been his constant, steadily growing companion ever since it had first blossomed in his heart. 

When his and Harvey’s eyes had met in that lush, slightly pompous Chilton suite, it had felt like an explosion. He had been too stunned to say anything for a moment, his palms sweaty and his lips impossibly dry. Something similar had happened just the day before when Grammy had told him that it was time that he lived up to his potential. He hadn’t understood it back then but once Harvey had looked at him for the first time, once their eyes had met across the room he had known.

Mike lets his eyelids flutter shut and leans back against the backrest of Harvey’s sofa. The condo is silent and he tries to keep his mind from traveling back to that day all those years ago, but it is no use. His mind is too weary and maybe the memories will numb the throbbing pain for a moment, so he gives in. A small sigh escapes his lips and he can feel a faint hint of a frown furrow his eye brows…

*

**The First Time**

He doesn’t think Harvey notices the way he staggers a little when he is able to move again. It seemed like an eternity, those few splits of a second he had been frozen in the doorway, staring at the person on the other side of the suite. 

But now he can move again and he grips the handle of the briefcase tighter as he takes step after cautious step towards the man the red-headed assistant had referred to as “Mr. Specter” and who is walking towards him as well. Mike rakes his brain for the name of the person he’s supposed to be, the applicant, the candidate, the hopeful young prospect Mr. Specter thinks he’s meeting instead of the screw-up that Mike really is. 

_Rick Sorkin._ His name is _Rick Sorkin_ , he remembers as he watches the tips of his shoes sink into the soft carpet below his feet. When he raises his head again and his and Mr. Specter’s eyes meet, his breath catches in his throat and his heart misses a beat. For some reason he has never believed this would ever happen to him. He has always been sure that a soulmate just wasn’t in the cards for him, just like parents who were alive, just like a normal childhood, just like a normal brain simply weren’t. 

“Harvey Specter, good to meet you.” 

Apparently, he’s been wrong about this all his life. 

The second their hands touch, the split moment before the actual handshake feels like a bolt of lightning shooting through every fiber of his body. Then the briefcase snaps open, the bags of pot spill onto the carpet and everything goes to shit. Well, not everything, but this, his shot at a fresh start with his life. 

That Harvey Specter guy obviously tries to be very blasé about the whole thing, his first reaction being nothing but a passing comment on those plastic bags spilled all over the suite’s floor. He watches Mike as he hastily gathers the bags together and shoves them back into the briefcase and he stands calm and as still as a statue while Mike fishes a runaway bag from under the sofa, calm and steady, just watching, like an innocent bystander. But from the way his eyes search Mike’s face and from the way his jaw is just the slightest bit set, Mike knows that Harvey knows as well. How couldn’t he – it must be as obvious and as painfully aware to him as it is to Mike. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Mike hisses when Harvey steps behind the desk and motions for Mike to take a seat on the other side of the table. “This…” He falls silent and bites his lips, a burning heat on his cheeks and most likely a deep shade of red. His hands feel useless to him, so he runs his palms over his thighs a couple of times before he looks up – only to find Harvey staring at him across the polished surface of the desk. “Shit, sorry” Mike mutters again and licks his suddenly very dry lips. “So, it’s you, then. I mean,” he clears his throat and licks his lips again. “I mean, so we are…” 

“Just what I needed,” Harvey murmurs before he reaches for his laptop and fires it up. 

“What?” 

There is a look of desperate determination on Harvey’s face, his thoughts obviously racing inside of his head, and Mike just seems unable to stop staring. There are two moles over Harvey’s left eyebrow and the curve of his lips is simply perfect. Mike wonders what those lips might taste like, and for a second he can’t remember the last time he’s kissed a boy. He blinks. 

“A soulmate is the last thing I need right now,” Harvey finally says, the light of the laptop’s screen tainting his features with a pale glow. “I just made senior partner at the firm. I don’t need anything holding me back. I don’t need this kind of… responsibility.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and takes a deep, slightly shaky breath. If Mike’s perception isn’t mistaken, Harvey’s fingers are trembling a bit and he’s clenching his jaws. 

Mike wonders if Harvey feels the same, if his heart is racing as well and if he feels as if he’s just fallen off a cliff, his body shattered on a stony shore. He wonders if he can feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, too, and if there’s the same jitter, the same deeply rooted elation and certainness pulsing in his chest. He longs to reach out and touch, Harvey’s hand, the soft slope of his cheek, his hair or maybe even the perfectly starched collar of his immaculate white shirt, but instead he just bites his lips again and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He doesn’t need this either. He doesn’t want to fuck up this man’s life like he fucks up everything. Harvey doesn’t deserve that. 

“I—“ he starts but he doesn’t really know what to say so he just falls silent again. “I never thought…” 

Harvey sighs and shakes his head. “There has to be something I can do, a way out of this.” He’s as pale as a ghost and it’s not just the reflection from the laptop’s screen, yet is voice is unbelievably calm and composed. “Don’t worry. I can get us out of this. At least for the most part.” He looks up and for a brief moment his gaze meets Mike’s. The turmoil wrecking havoc in his eyes knocks the air from Mike’s lungs. 

“My life’s a mess,” Mike tries again. “As you probably have guessed already. I fuck up everything that’s good, oh, and everything that’s terrible as well, I even fuck up the terrible things in my life and everyone I get close to… Yeah, well. A soulmate is about the last thing on my wish list as well.” A blunt, humming pain worms its way into his stomach and when it begins to settle there, Mike feels as if he can’t breathe. Even though he’s never thought a soulmate was in the cards for him, he’s somehow managed to fuck this up as well, this thing, this wonderful thing, this unexpected miracle. He lifts his gaze and his eyes meet Harvey’s. “I don’t need this any more than you do.” 

It hurts so much more to say those words than Mike has ever thought possible. But Harvey is right. This definitely is not something Harvey needs right now – and Harvey obviously doesn’t want it either. Him. And it’s not that Mike doesn’t understand – he does. But it still hurts so much more than he’d have thought. 

“My grandmother is in a nursing home and she needs to be moved to full care. That’s why I agreed to make the drop,” Mike continues, babbling along just to fill the silence. He nods towards the briefcase standing next to his chair. “Trevor has tried to talk me into doing something like that for ages but I usually… Well, now I need twenty five thousand bucks by the end of the months or…” He clears his throat. “I take other people’s LSATs for money. I cheat. I never finished college, my parents are dead. They died in a car accident when I was eleven. I… I’m not exactly soulmate material, I guess.” 

Harvey looks at him for the longest time, just looks at him without saying a word. Mike starts to feel warm under that intense gaze, Harvey’s eyes burning holes into his skin. Warm, but also safe. For a second, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like. It’s the worst second of his life. 

“So,” Harvey says and turns his eyes back at the laptop’s screen. “We’re not going to go through with this.” He looks up again, searching Mike’s eyes. 

Mike doesn’t trust his voice so he just shakes his head. “No,” he finally croaks, shaking his head again. “We’re not.” 

Harvey’s fingers fly over the keyboard and for a short while the soft clicking of the keys is the only sound in the room. 

“It won’t be that easy,” he says after a while and his words startle Mike. “We’ll still need to spend a certain amount of time together, even if we’re not… consummating the bond. Everything else would be too distracting. We need to find a way to minimize the inconvenience.” 

Mike frowns. He knows that Harvey is right, of course he is, everyone knows the potentially crippling effects any kind of separation, especially a longer one, usually has on the soulmates, but he has no idea where Harvey is going with this. 

“The LSATs?” 

_“What?”_

“You said you take the LSATs for other people? For money? You know something about the law?” 

“I even passed the bar,” Mike whispers, still not sure why Harvey is bringing this up. It doesn’t make any sense to talk about this now. He should be running away as fast as he can instead of sitting here talking about his fucked-up life. 

“Why?” Now it’s Harvey’s turn to sound confused. “You said you never finished college. I assume you didn’t go to law school either?” 

“No,” Mike says, taking a deep, shaky breath. Maybe it’s best just to play along, to answer the questions he’s being asked. “No, I didn’t. Some asshole bet me that I couldn’t do it without having gone to law school. So I proved him wrong.” 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that.” Mike can feel a small grin creep onto his face. “Well, I studied, of course. But I kind of have a freak brain? Basically, I consume knowledge like no one else. Once I read something, I understand it and once I understand it, I never forget it.” 

“Never?” 

“Nope,” Mike shakes his head, while the grin fades from his lips. “Never.” 

“Hm,” Harvey says, frowning. “That could be useful.” 

“How could that ever be useful in a situation like thi—“ 

“I’m emailing the firm that I’ve found our new associate,” Harvey interrupts and starts to type rapidly. 

“What?” Mike frowns. Harvey can’t possibly be suggesting— 

“I’m hiring you as my associate, corporate law. You should know enough about that to pass for one of those summer associate douches, at least at first glance. And with that brain of yours, you’ll hopefully catch up fast. This way, we can work together and… avoid the worst effects.” 

“But—“ Even though Mike knows Harvey is right, even though he knows that what Harvey suggests is the best, the most effective and at the same time the least suspicious way to satisfy their soulmate bond, the most logical way for them to spend time together, to be close to one another without completely giving in to both their needs, it doesn’t sit entirely right with him. Everything inside of him wants to protest, but he rings it down, knowing deep down that Harvey is right, that neither of them _really_ needs this. So he bites his tongue and keeps his mouth shut. 

“I’m giving you the twenty five thousand as a signing bonus. You start Monday next week. Now here’s what you’re going to do. First…” 

While Harvey rattles off instructions, suits, Harvard, pot, Trevor, and while he goes on about this being long hours, hard work, Mike takes a deep breath. He pictures Harvey and him working together, on opposite sides of a table, next to each other on a worn out leather couch, files and folders strewn all around them, on the sofa, on the coffee table, on the floor, stacks of books, pens and markers, post-its, half empty glasses of scotch and rolled up sleeves. He imagines how warm Harvey’s body must be and how he’d be able to feel that warmth if they just sat close enough on that couch, buried arms deep in work, a faint smile ghosting over Harvey’s lips when Mike comes up with some brilliant idea. 

Pride. Trust. Loyalty. Family. A home. 

Maybe this isn’t going to turn out all bad after all. 

*

**Now**

Harvey’s apartment is still so very quiet, only muffled sounds from the traffic in the streets below seeping through the sky-high, floor-to-ceiling windows. Mike doesn’t know how long it will take till Harvey comes home, but he’ll wait. He’ll wait as long as it takes, just like he had that night before he had had to go to prison. 

Earlier on that fateful day, now years in the past, he had been planning to go to Harvey to ask him to be his best man at the wedding but the later it got the heavier the weight on his shoulders had become. What had always been clear to him had become painfully apparent. To him, to Rachel – a shared future wasn’t meant to be for them, never had been, never would be. She had looked at him for the longest time, sad and pale and quiet, and then she had nodded, her lips thinning for a moment. 

“I know,” she had said. “In a way, I think I’ve always known. I just don’t understand why you ne—“

“He doesn’t want it,” Mike had said, looking at his hands in his lap. “Me. He doesn’t want… me.”

He still had found his way to Harvey’s condo a couple of hours later, after a drink or two at some shady bar. He had let himself in and had two drinks ready and waiting for them when Harvey came home that night, both glasses untouched and the fire in the fireplace crackling.

The night they almost talked about it.

*

**The Third Time**

Mike can feel Harvey’s skin break when his blow lands. His ears are ringing with Harvey’s voice, with the flood of words taunting him, but he can’t understand a thing Harvey is saying. The rage inside of him boils over and threatens to consume him alive, so he just lashes out again and again, the only way he can avoid bursting into a thousand fragments. 

For some bizarre reason, Mike can also feel the shards of glass underneath the soles of his shoes, and the cracking noise they make as they’re being crushed sounds like tiny bird bones snapping in two. 

Harvey’s hands rise to shield his face, loose fists, to protect himself at least a little against Mike’s rage, but it’s just a half-hearted attempt at defense, and Mike knows that. 

He hits Harvey again, his eyebrow this time, and once more, he can feel the skin break. He needs to get Harvey out of reach, he needs to stop touching him like that, so he shoves him away, both hands on his shoulders, or is it his chest, and in horror he watches Harvey stumble and trip and finally fall over a foot stool, tumbling to the ground as if in slow motion. 

Harvey catches himself before his head hits the hardwood floor, and all Mike can do is stare, his heart beating out of his chest and his hands still balled into tight fists. For a second or two he’s as tense as a bow string and his cheeks are burning with the flaming residue of his rage. He feels dizzy and he realizes that his breathing is way too fast and way to flat. He thinks he’s going to pass out. 

He stumbles backwards until his back hits one of those ridiculous concrete columns and while he sinks down against it, Harvey rises to a semi sitting position, wiping his mouth and wincing in pain when his fingers brush over his split lip. 

That is all it takes for Mike to break down. He buries his face in his hands and sobs against his palms, his face contorting with the futile effort to hold back the tears and the choked noises. 

Harvey murmurs something about calling Gibbs and changing places with him, going to prison so Mike can walk free, that foolish deal again, a deal he’s never going to accept. 

Mike thinks he chokes out some kind of answer, shaking his head and biting his lips so hard he tastes blood. There is no way he’s going to let Harvey do that and there’s no way he’s going to marry Rachel either. 

“I can’t,” he whispers, sniffling against the growing pain in his chest. “Harvey, I can’t.” 

They don’t talk about it, not really, not when Harvey gets up and helps Mike rise to his feet as well, not while they tear off each other’s clothes and not while Harvey’s lips bruise Mike’s and Mike can taste Harvey’s blood on his. They don’t say anything, at least not anything that matters all through the act, the touching and the biting, the kisses and the desperate attempts to be even closer together, to break all the barriers that separate them, to tear everything down and to destroy each other completely. 

Later, when they’re lying next to each other, flat on their backs, their panting breathings slowly evening out, Mike runs his hand over his face and sighs. 

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he says and his voice sounds hollow and alien to him. “I didn’t mean to—“ 

“I know,” Harvey interrupts, and Mike closes his eyes. He can still feel Harvey’s fingers digging into his back, his ass, his hips and his legs and he knows there will be marks in the morning. He can still feel Harvey inside of him and he knows that that mark will never fade, no matter what they do – or what they do not do. 

For a brief moment, he feels as if he’s flying. 

“We could—“ he says, biting his lips. “When I’m out again, I mean. Maybe we—“ 

“No.” 

Just one word rising next to him in the dark and then – silence. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Harvey says a few moments later and climbs out of bed. He’s nothing but a shadow as Mike watches him cross the floor and disappear into the bathroom. 

He’d better be gone before Harvey comes back. 

*

**Now**

Mike opens his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair, his whole body vibrating with longing.

It has to be after midnight already and Harvey still isn’t home. Mike rises from the sofa and walks over to the liquor cart. He stares at the decanters and the glasses for a while, the bottles and the metal tweezers for the ice, he watches the city’s night lights sparkle in the prisms of the beautifully cut crystal and once more he remembers that other time, the night he’d felt that crystal as diamond splinters underneath his feet. He remembers Harvey’s arms around him, pulling him back against his chest, and he remembers the burning sensation of Harvey’s cock inside of him, swelling and pulsing, Harvey’s heart beating erratically against Mike’s sweaty back, and the roll of Harvey’s hips, the thrust that buried Harvey even deeper inside of him, the short pause in reality and then the impossibly bittersweet and painful sound of Harvey’s voice as he emptied himself in Mike’s tight, trembling heat. Harvey’s hand on his cock, pushing him over the edge, coaxing him to spend himself again and again until he had nothing left to give.

Mike chuckles drily and pours himself a drink. His cheeks are burning and his cock is stirring in his pants. 

It wasn’t half bad, that night, it really wasn’t.

*

**The Second Time**

“My dad was a saxophone player,” Harvey says, eyes directed at some vague point somewhere near the bathroom door. “He sat in with everybody because everybody loved him. He believed in love at first sight, and unfortunately... his first sight was a groupie.” 

When Mike doesn’t say anything, when he just sits there across the table and stares at him, Harvey swallows. He takes another deep breath. 

“My mother. I was sixteen when I caught her cheating. I knew if I told my dad he'd... next two years went by, I didn't say a thing, and she went right on just... making him a fool. Look, this is all to say that I grew up in a house surrounded by people and I know what it is like to be totally alone.“ 

Mike’s eyes are burning and he has to blink a couple of times against the smoke. Harvey’s tie is loose and his hair is a fucking mess, but for some reason he’s still wearing his jacket. He looks absolutely amazing, Mike thinks, but that might be the pot talking (or rather: not talking, because that’s all they do – not talk). 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing around a rising sadness in his throat. “Your stoned is _depressing_. You should never share your feelings. Ever again. Well, not with me.” 

“What can I say,” Harvey says, staring straight ahead. “It’s been a tough week for both of us.” 

“No shit.” 

Mike nods. It has. It has been a shitty, tough week, and for the first time he got the news about Grammy Mike feels at least a little human again – not yet like himself, not quite, but at least not completely ripped to shreds. 

“Do _you_?” 

Harvey turns his head and frowns. He sounds as bewildered as he looks. 

“Do I _what_?” 

“Believe in love at first sight?” 

“Mike…” 

Harvey falls silent again, then he sighs and shrugs. “Why?” 

Mike reaches for his beer and takes a deep swig from the bottle. He almost chokes but he manages to stop it just in time. 

“Because _I_ do.” 

When Harvey doesn’t say anything for the longest time, Mike shifts on his chair and clears his throat. 

“I do. No, that’s not it. I don’t _believe_ in it. I _know_. I’ve known since the interview.” 

“Mike…” Harvey tries again, but apparently he doesn’t know what to say next because there is nothing after that, no more words. 

“We’re idiots,” Mike goes on after a long pause, the pot and the beer making him bold. “What we have… what we _could_ have. I mean, I know I shouldn’t want this. I know that I’m not soumate material. But I do. I really, really do… We’re idiots to let this pass by. Come on, Harvey. You must feel it, too. I _know_ you do. I can _feel_ it, I... We’re practically _made_ for each other.” 

The silence that follows rings in Mike’s ears and when he turns his head to look at Harvey the room slurs a bit, like in one of those movies where they do that thing with the camera to make a character appear stoned. Or drunk. Or both. 

“Soulmates,” he says and maybe, just maybe his tongue drags the word a bit. It’s heavy with drugs and beer and maybe that’s why the word sounds so much less dangerous than ever before. “Soulmates, Harvey. We could have _everything_.” 

Harvey blinks and he doesn’t turn to look at Mike for what he says next, he just keeps staring straight ahead. 

“I don’t.” 

“Oh.” 

Harvey runs his palms over his thighs and straightens his back, and Mike can feel panic rising in his chest. He needs to do something. He needs to do something right now. 

“What?” 

“What _what_?” 

Mike can’t decide if Harvey looks more annoyed or more confused, if the look on his face should be described as annoyed confusion or confused annoyance, and that thought strikes him as funny, so he giggles briefly, which makes the scales definitely tilt to the confused side. 

“What do you not do?” 

“ _What?_ ” And now, annoyance seems to be winning, so Mike wipes that grin off of his face and clears his throat again. Damn dry pot, the coffee cart guy used to be much better, back in the day. 

“Not believe in it or not feel it too?” 

Harvey stares at him as if he were from an alien planet and for a moment Mike fears that Harvey still doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he has to say it again, that he has to spell it out so it’ll be out there forever. Thankfully, he’s wrong. 

“Either,” Harvey says and purses his lips for a second. “Both.” 

“Oh,” Mike says again and it feels as if he’s falling, falling, falling. “Oh,” he says again, sucking the insides of his cheeks between his teeth and biting down as hard as he can. “I see.” 

“Jessica is going to kill me,” Harvey says, his words sounding slightly slurred as well, and while Mike is still wondering what Jessica has to do with everything, Harvey is rising from his chair. “I should be going.” 

He leaves without saying another word and without looking back. 

*

**Now**

The scotch is velvety and deep and Mike lets it sit in his mouth for a moment before he swallows it down. It tastes like Harvey and that manages to calm his nerves at least a little. 

It’s almost one a.m. and Harvey has to be home soon. 

Mike has lit the fireplace and after two (and a half) glasses of scotch he feels almost pleasantly numb. He kicks off his shoes and curls up on the sofa, closing his eyes once more.

 

**Now**

Mike flinches awake when the door falls shut and immediately a thousand possibilities flood his thoughts. Harvey might be mad. Harvey might not be alone. Harvey might reject him, tell him to leave the moment he sees him there in his home, telling him to leave the key and to never come back.

But nothing of that happens. Calm, steady steps walk down the corridor and they pause for just the shortest moment before they pick up again, a little slower this time. 

When Mike sits up and blinks, there he is, Harvey Specter in all his splendor, briefcase still in hand and his eyes slightly narrowed. He tilts his head, his eyes never leaving Mike’s.

“You still have the key.” Harvey looks like shit, there are dark circles under his eyes and he has lost weight, Mike thinks. He looks smaller somehow compared to the last time they’ve seen each other, and there’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes that makes Mike’s stomach lurch.

“I still have the key,” Mike confirms, his words tasting tired, heavy with sleep. “Donna never asked for it back.”

Harvey places the briefcase on top of the kitchen island and shrugs out of his coat. He walks over to the dining table and lays it over the back of one of the chairs.

The question if he’s never heard of a hanger is on the tip of Mike’s tongue but he swallows it down with another sip of scotch. 

“What are you doing here, Mike?”

Harvey doesn’t sound mad, He doesn’t even sound angry or annoyed. He sounds just calm, curious but calm. No, that’s not what he sounds like, Mike thinks. There’s something else, something he can’t really name.

“Mike, what are you doing here,” Harvey repeats when Mike doesn’t answer, and this is when it hits him.

Guarded. Harvey sounds guarded. Harvey never sounds guarded, not with him.

Slowly, Mike rises from the sofa and walks past Harvey towards the liquor cart. He pours Harvey a drink, more velvety twinkling crystal, and hands him the glass when he’s done.

“I don’t know,” he says and walks back to the sofa. He can hear Harvey swallow and the scent he’s caught from being so close to him just seconds ago still Mike’s nose. It smells heavenly, and for the first time in months, he doesn’t hurt all over. “I… I just had to see you. I need—“

“You should go back to where you came from,” Harvey says, raising his chin a little. He swirls the scotch around in his glass before he takes a deep breath. “You should go back to your wife.”

“It’s over,” Mike whispers and raises his hand a little to stare at his ring finger. His empty ring finger. “Rachel and I broke up. It’s over.”

“You said that once before,” Harvey says, drawling the vowels and smacking the consonants and Mike hates it. “But then you went back to her.”

“Because _you sent_ me back,” Mike spits, setting his glass down onto the coffee table with a piercing clink. “Because _you_ told me to—“

“It was what you wanted, Mike.” Harvey sounds tired as well all of a sudden, tired and heartbreakingly weary. “It was what you’ve _always_ wanted. A home. A family.”

“It wasn’t.” 

Mike feels hollow. The longing inside of him is hollowing him out, carving steadily at his mind and soul. Soon, there will be nothing left of him.

“Yes, it was,” Harvey says, finally him to the seating group. He stands by one of the chairs but he doesn’t sit down. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t.” His voice commands but his eyes, his eyes they plead.

A spark of hope rises in Mike’s chest and he clings to it with all the strength he can muster.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“This is not a negotiation, Mike.” A slight hint of anger tries to creep into Harvey’s voice, and it makes Mike shiver. “You and I – I told you before. We’re done.”

“Harvey, please…”

“Mike, you can’t waltz in here after two years and expect me to—“

“Please, Harvey, I—“

“Just go back to your home, Mike. Go back to Rachel. Apologize to her and be happy together. It’s what you deserve.” Harvey purses his lips and inhales sharply.

Mike tries to catch Harvey’s eyes but Harvey avoids Mike’s gaze, staring at something on the coffee table between them.

“You mean I don’t deserve _you_?”

That shuts Harvey up for a while. Mike can see how a series of emotions runs over Harvey’s face – confusion, irritation, anger, desperation and then something else, something entirely different.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Harvey finally says and his words are so very, very soft. His voice does that sometimes, when he truly and deeply cares about something and even though he’s still standing there on the other side of the table Mike can see how his features soften as well.

“No?”

“No.”

“Good.” 

Harvey swallows and looks at his glass again, staring at it as if he’s seeing it for the first time. His hand trembles the tiniest bit when he raises it to his lips and takes a swallow. When he’s finished, he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, glass still in hand. “This is not going to work,” he says, shaking his head. “This was never supposed to happen. I tried everything I could so it would never come to this. From the moment I first saw you I tried everything. Everything.”

“You’re not like your father, Harvey,” Mike says as calmly as he can when Harvey shakes his head again. He picks up his glass once more and takes a careful sip. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’d never—“

“ _Mike._ ”

Harvey cuts into his words so sharply that Mike flinches. He almost spills his drink, thank god the glass is almost empty. And Mike knows that Harvey is right, that he is like his father, that Mike has already broken his heart going back to Rachel after… Even though Harvey had told him to.

“You’re right. I’m not. I’m not like him.” He takes a deep breath and drains his glass. “I’m like _her_.”

“You’re not—“

“Yes, Mike, I am.” Harvey interrupts him again and makes for the liquor cart. He pours himself a drink without offering one to Mike and drowns it in one go. “We… I… I knew I would bring you nothing but harm and I’m sorry. Mike, believe me. I’m so sorry.” He pauses to refresh his drink once more. “I slept with you even though you were with Rachel.”

“It was over,” Mike tries to cut in, but Harvey just vehemently shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t hurt anybody. We… Rachel and I had broken up. We—“

“I took you even though I knew you weren’t mine to take.”

“Harvey, that is ridiculous!” The longing inside Mike slowly, very slowly is replaced by something else. Rage. Desperation. “You didn’t _take_ me. If I remember correctly, and I do, I did quite a bit of taking myself. It’s not that—“

“I made you a fraud. I made you a fraud because I just couldn’t let you go. Because from the moment we first met I wanted you and I was scared out of my mind to lose you, terrified of not being able to be close to you – after knowing you for how long? Five minutes? I made you a fraud and you had to go to prison for that. Because I was too selfish to— Because I needed you. I should have been able to… I should never have hired you, should have kept you safe. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. “

“Harvey!” Mike jumps up from the sofa and balls his hands into tight fists. “You’re my fucking _soulmate_. There’s nothing you could have done against—“

“It’s not what you want,” Harvey yells. He downs his drink again and refills his glass. Before Mike can say anything, he’s shouting again. “This. Us. Me. It’s not what you _need_. You don’t need someone like me, someone who fucks up the lives of those he loves most and—“

“See?” Mike tries to take a step towards Harvey, but the coffee table is in the way. “Fuck… Shit. See? You love me. You said it. You—“

“Of _course_ I fucking love you,” Harvey yells. The veins in his throat are bulging and throbbing with his pulse, Mike can see that even from across the room. “Of course I fucking love you. I—“

“God _dammit_ ,” Mike hisses, and the next moment he’s standing right in front of Harvey, yanking the glass from his hand. “You fucking _idiot_.”

When their lips crush together, Harvey tastes like scotch and fading bitterness and longing and it’s the best thing Mike has ever tasted. 

“You want this,” Harvey whispers against Mike’s lips, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “You still want this after all the times I pushed you away, all the times I didn’t…”

“Yeah,” Mike smiles, his lips brushing over Harvey’s gently. “Of course I do. We were made for each other, remember? You and I? Hmmm?”

Harvey nods and Mike places a soft kiss onto his lips. “And now shut up and…”

“I’m sorry, Mike.” Harvey breaks the kiss again and searches for Mike’s eyes. “I am so sorry for everything I’ve done to you, for all the pain I caused.”

“You’re never sorry,” Mike whispers, tilting his head a little to the side, his eyes still locked with Harvey’s. “For anything.”

Harvey pauses for a moment, never breaking eye contact. He brushes his thumbs over Mike’s burning cheeks and blinks. “That is not true. You know that isn’t true.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mike breathes. There’s a raw pain forming in his throat and it’s hard to swallow around it. “I know that, Harvey. I was just…”

Harvey leans in and kisses Mike’s lips impossibly gently. His eyes flutter shut and Mike can’t help but stare at the black circles Harvey’s lashes form on his skin. When Harvey’s eyes open again, they’re bottomless, and Mike feels as if he’s drowning in them, as if they want to swallow him whole. 

“I’m sorry about everything,” Harvey finally says. “Please tell me you believe me. Please… please forgive me.”

“Yeah,” Mike croaks, trying to swallow around that lump in his throat again. “I do. I forgive you.”

Harvey devours him, there is no other word for it. The kiss, the kisses really, are messy and open mouthed and all teeth and bites and Harvey’s tongue fucks his mouth so intensely Mike gasps for air. Harvey doesn’t do anything in half and this is no exception. He claims Mike’s mouth with force and determination and Mike gives back as good as he gets.

Mike’s lips are already bruised and tingling with want when he finally has to break free for air, and Harvey stills. He cups Mike’s face, panting, Mike’s hands fisted into the fabric of Harvey’s shirt, and dives in for another short, yet incredibly deep kiss.

“Are you sure?” Harvey kisses against Mike’s lips before he pulls away again. “God, Mike, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Mike kisses back, his hands tugging at Harvey’s clothing, longing to get underneath, to touch, to hold, to mark and to caress. “God, yeah…” He kisses down the side of Harvey’s throat and bites down when Harvey’s hand pushes into his pants and his fingers close around his cock. “Never been so sure about anything in my life…”

Things become pretty much incoherent after that. It’s skin and moans and fingers and lips, hungry kisses and unknown territory. Mike is sure that Harvey has torn a couple of his shirt buttons off when he undressed him, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is Harvey’s arms around him and his heartbeat next to his own.

They stumble to the bedroom, Harvey mumbling something about being too old to do this on the floor, about this being too important to be done on the floor, and all Mike can reply is _yeah, yeah, whatever, come on, Harvey, hurry…_

Harvey takes him apart bit by bit, making him come undone with his kisses and his greedy, greedy hands. Now that the floodgates have been opened, Harvey holds nothing back. He gives his all to bring Mike pleasure and Mike drowns in it and resurfaces reborn. 

Even though they’re starving for each other, Harvey makes sure that Mike is prepared and ready and by the time Harvey decides that he’s done with that, Mike is more than that. 

He feels open and raw and the desire and want inside of him are consuming him. His skin is burning and his whole body is screaming for Harvey, and when he tries to scramble to his knees, Harvey stills him with a touch to his shoulder.

“I want to see you,” Harvey whispers and turns Mike around until he’s lying on his back, his legs spread, and Harvey kneeling between them. “This time, I want to see you.” He positions himself and Mike reaches down to hold himself open for Harvey, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

Harvey enters him in one slow, determined thrust, claiming every bit of Mike’s body. When he’s fully sheathed, he pauses, trembling inside of Mike and Mike trembling around him.

Mike’s body tightens around Harvey, and Harvey moans. Mike draws in a deep breath, trembling and bites his lips. “Thank god,” he murmurs, his hands fisting into the sheets. “Oh, thank god…”

Harvey rolls his hips once and Mike gasps. His eyelids fly open and their eyes meet. It feels like falling, and all Mike can do is moan. 

“Hey,” Harvey smiles, reaching up to cup Mike’s face with one hand. “Feel good?”

Mike answers by tightening his muscles, and Harvey bites his lips, swallowing a guttural moan. 

“Careful,” he whispers. “I’m close already…”

Mike nods and they stay like that for a long while, Harvey buried deep inside of him. Every now and then, Harvey leans down and brushes his lips over Mikes or runs his hand down Mike’s side, and Mike’s fingers caress the small of Harvey’s back with utmost laziness and care.

And even though they barely move, their arousal and need builds the entire time until Mike is sure he’s going to die from the intensity of it, at least if he doesn’t move soon.

“Please,” he whispers, and his fingers dig into the muscles of Harvey’s back. “Oh god, please…”

Harvey moans and his hips flex and Mike could bet that Harvey isn’t doing that on purpose.

“Fuck…”

The curse falls from Harvey’s lips like a prayer and the second line almost takes Mike’s breath away entirely.

“Fuck, Mike…”

He drinks in the look of utter concentration on Harvey’s face and the knowledge that he’s the cause of it makes his head spin.

Harvey’s hips flex again and Mike’s movements echo his and soon they’ve found a rhythm, slow and steady, slow and steady, and for the longest time they move just like that. 

Mike is impossibly hard and his cock is leaking with precome, leaving sticky traces on their heated skin. 

Eventually, Harvey’s hips stutter and he increases the pace, moving in and out of Mike with deliberation. 

“Please,” Mike moans, his hands cupping Harvey’s ass and pulling Harvey even deeper inside, “please, I want…”

“Yeah,” Harvey kisses against Mike’s throat, “yeah, yeah…”

Mike knows he’s close, he knows this can’t last forever, but still he tries to hold back, not wanting it to end, that insane build-up, this swirling world of love and touch, of Harvey and him moving together in Harvey’s dimly lit bedroom, Harvey’s scent and taste filling him just like Harvey’s cock.

His climax hits him like white hot iron suddenly flooding through his entire being, and he sobs his release against Harvey’s shoulder, surrendering to the demands of his body, letting himself fall into the abyss that is the incredible man moving inside of him, his soulmate, his family, his home, the love of his life.

Harvey.

When Harvey comes, it feels like fire and ice, and Mike can feel it everywhere. There’s a clear line, dividing the world into before and after that moment, and that clear line brands Mike’s skin and soul with an invisible mark. Harvey’s mark.

And from the way Harvey kisses him, from the way his fingers caress his face and from the way he slowly softens, still buried in Mike’s tight heat, from the way Mike’s name falls from Harvey’s lips again and again and from the way it tastes in Mike’s mouth, Mike knows Harvey feels the same.

For the very first time, Mike feels complete.

 

**Tomorrow**

“Okay,” Mike says and takes a swallow from the glass of water Harvey has brought with him from the kitchen earlier. He’s leaning against the headboard, the sheets loosely draped over the lower part of his body. He’s still slightly out of breath from their last round and he gulps down the water greedily. It is cool and refreshing, Harvey must have gotten it from the fridge, Mike things, the glass is a little damp, and he runs his slightly wet fingers through his hair when he’s had his fill. He carefully sets the glass down onto the bedside table and takes a deep breath.

“I think we should give this a try, a real try, I mean. I think we should really go for it, Harvey. I mean, we’ve been fucking this up ever since we met and I think that that’s truly and utterly idiotic. Maybe it isn’t so bad, you know? Having a soulmate and actually being with him. Maybe it’s all right… So I want us to go for it, give it a try.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Mike confirms, nodding. He risks trying on a confident smile. “I think it’s the only possible way now.”

He watches Harvey squaring his shoulders and raising his chin and he can practically feel the smile fading from his face.

“Well, I don’t.”

Harvey’s doing that thing again, that thing where he’s drawling his vowels, and Mike hates that sound more than anything else.

Mike sits up completely and looks down at Harvey, looks at his bare chest and his stony face. He watches, carefully and with increasing bewilderment, how that stony look crumbles and the broadest, most beautiful smile spreads over Harvey’s face. He can’t help but mirror it, and his eyes water.

“Who’s the idiot now,” Harvey grins and reaches up to cup the back of Mike’s neck. “Come here.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

The smile on Harvey’s face has to be the most beautiful thing Mike has ever seen.

His soulmate. Harvey. A family. Home.


End file.
